


Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

by astrxd



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, I'm warning you now HA, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, coffee shop AU, l o t s of puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrxd/pseuds/astrxd
Summary: Henry.
It was there, and she knew it. It was in black, etched into her skin. Not puckered or elevated--just there, as if somebody wrote it on her with a really, really strong Sharpie. The letters were simple, surrounded by a light smattering of freckles, and it was as if she were hyper aware of each nerve and muscle beneath it.Astrid knitted her brow. This was supposed to make things easier. While it did in some ways, it also created some other difficulties.Such as the struggle of knowing which goddamned Henry was her Henry.(Soulmate AU where your mate’s name is somewhere on your body. Astrid’s a barista at a hole in the wall cafe, and Hiccup’s name just isn’t really Hiccup.)





	

It was a quaint, homey shop--one that was commonly populated by the modern hipster or college student trying to frantically cram for finals. Customers were mostly regulars; new faces were rare, but only because they either stopped appearing, or became familiar. It was no Starbucks joint, however, or Dutch Bros or Peet’s Coffee or any similar chain.

No, it wasn’t. In fact, it was just _A Whole Latte Love._  
  
Yeah. Astrid had to learn to cope with the terrible puns over time. Even now, though, the cheesy names for the variety of drinks they served like _Espresso Patronum_ and the _Catpuccino_ made her want to sigh deeply whenever somebody ordered them.

It was a relatively slow day. Quiet music hummed in the background as she went about wiping down the counters and tables of the coffee shop. A couple of people tapped away at their laptops, one person was lounging on the couch reading, and another was staring outside with their hands curled around a porcelain white mug. Another pair of people sat at one of the tables, staring deeply at one another, smiling sappily, all with their hands laced together.  
  
_Soulmates._  
  
Astrid shook her head and eased her gaze away from the couple in favor of returning to work. Balling up the small towel in her hand, Astrid made her way back to the register and drew in the warm air of the shop to set the cloth beneath the counter. The room smelled like coffee grounds with a hint of cinnamon, with a strange twist of unidentifiable comfort--but that was to be expected from such a small hole in the wall.  
  
_Soulmates._ The term popped into her mind again, like a flashing sign screaming at her, demanding to be pondered. The skin of her lower shoulder blade tingled, and she fought the instinct to twist her arm to scratch at it.  
  
_Henry._  
  
It was there, and she knew it. It was in black, etched into her skin. Not puckered or elevated--just _there_ , as if somebody wrote it on her with a really, really strong Sharpie. The letters were simple, surrounded by a light smattering of freckles, and it was as if she were hyper aware of each nerve and muscle beneath it.  
  
Astrid knitted her brow. This was supposed to make things _easier._ While it did in some ways, it also created some other difficulties.  
  
Such as the struggle of knowing which goddamned Henry was _her_ Henry.  
  
‘ _Her Henry.’_ It was an interesting concept, but she shoved aside those thoughts in favor of straightening her back and slapping a welcoming smile onto her face in response to the jingle of the bell hanging above the door.  
  
Another day, another customer.  
  
“Good afternoon,” she greeted, dipping her head slightly to acknowledge the person who had walked inside. He was new, she could tell--she didn’t recognize those green eyes and the auburn hair. Also, he looked pretty amused. It was probably the shop name,  
  
“Actually, it’s half past eleven,” the customer flippantly responded with a shrug, his gaze stuck to the chalkboards above her head as he entered. Astrid’s brow twitched the _slightest_ bit. Great--another one of _those_ customers. Biting back a retort, Astrid took his reply in stride.  
  
“Welcome to A Whole Latte Love,” she continued, brushing off his apparently lack of tact, “just let me know what I can get for you when you’re ready.”  
  
Again, he looked a little too amused for her tastes. He flipped his gaze back at her, and a lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “I’m assuming you’re obligated to say that to everyone,” he half-laughed. Astrid’s lips twisted at the corners, but only briefly.  
  
“Oh, absolutely. Because I’d totally be greeting everybody with a terrible pun if I had the choice,” she responded, letting dry humor seep into her tone. Again, the customer laughed. A slight smirk appeared on her face. This guy liked games? It seemed like it. She had to admit, though--it was a refreshing change of pace to her usual day. “So, what can I get for you today, sir?”  
  
“I’m not entirely sure,” he hummed, gazing up at the menu boards again. “I’m, ah--I think I’m debating between the, the ‘I Don’t Care-amel Macchiato,’ or the ‘Vanilla Bean There, Done That.’”  
  
Astrid allowed herself to roll her eyes at him. Something she _strongly_ refrained from doing when she was dealing with customers.  
  
“Something tells me you just really wanted to say those puns,” Astrid accused, shaking her head.  
  
“...Huh. Maybe.” He shrugged a shoulder and looked back at her as he reached into his back pocket. His eyes flipped down, presumably to check the silver name tag pinned to her maroon apron. He trained his gaze on it for what seemed to be an eternity, then he did a double take, as if he didn’t believe his eyes. Astrid could only imagine what he was _really_ looking at, but she suddenly didn’t think it was her name tag anymore.  
  
Creep. She was glad that her apron was high-necked and thick canvas. Sarcastic _and_ sleazy. What a combination. All the same, she could have sworn his lips traced the syllables of her name--not that she was paying attention. Honestly, she was just going to give him the benefit of the doubt.  
  
“Uh. You can, um, surprise me, I-I guess?” He stammered, swallowing thickly as he produced a battered leather wallet from his pocket. The blonde arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
_Ooookay._  
  
“That’s not exactly how this establishment works,” the barista pointed out. She could charge him ten dollars for a cup of sugar water if she really wanted to. Actually… Huh. The thought was rather appealing, to see his face when he got his drink, but Astrid actually _wanted_ to keep her job. “But I guess I’ll amuse you,” she relented, before punching in an order that he didn’t even technically order. Her mind wandered as to what kind of drink she’d whip up for him, when she found herself wondering if he seemed like the type to prefer hazelnut or caramel.  
  
Astrid scoffed to herself--as if it mattered. What the fuck was going on, even? She wasn’t very partial to the way she suddenly felt so _comfortable_ around him. Something about energy or vibes or aura, maybe. The customer remained silent, with his brow scrunched up slightly. He fidgeted with his wallet; the confidence and sass he had only moments ago now seemingly nonexistent.  
  
“Cold or hot?” She inquired. He could at least steer her in the right direction.  
  
“Hot,” he said, looking a little flushed as he did--but also slightly smug. If there was supposed to be a double meaning there, she certainly didn’t gloss over it.  
  
“Your total will be three dollars and forty two cents,” Astrid concluded, looking up at him again. Staring eye to eye, she could just barely make out the honey-ish slashes in his deep green irises. Sharp jaw, strong brow--  
  
Wait, what?  
  
“Out of five,” he responded… a little bit late. There was a pause of silence on his part, but he eventually slipped her a crisp five dollar bill, and Astrid proceeded to tuck it into the register. She handed him his receipt and change with one hand, while picking up a cup with the other. As she plucked a marker from the pocket of her apron, the man slid the money she handed to him into the little plastic tip box sitting on the counter without missing a beat.  
  
“Can I get a name?” She asked, looking at him expectantly as the felt tip of her marker hovered over the white paper cup.  
  
Another pause.  
  
This was wrong. Really, really wrong. She shouldn’t have felt hopeful, or expectant. But she also _couldn’t not_ feel hopeful. Her heart’s pace picked up a little, and she felt a squeeze in her chest. Her shoulder blade felt _itchy_ , like the material of her shirt was suddenly prickly and firm as it rubbed against her back.  
  
“Uh--pardon? Sorry--I just…”  
  
“A name,” Astrid repeated. This guy was… well, he was being _slightly_ strange. She tapped her foot silently, somewhat anxious. “For your order.”  
  
The blonde didn’t even realize that she was mentally chanting two syllables over, and over, and _over,_ as if doing so would somehow make the _chance_ of _it_ any better.  
  
“Hiccup,” was his immediate response.  
  
She deflated. Just a little bit.  
  
Astrid looked up at him for clarification, but was already writing it down. A rosy hue found its way to the man’s cheeks, but Astrid disregarded it and nodded.  
  
“Hiccup,” she parroted in confirmation, “your drink will be out shortly.”  
  
“Thanks. Can’t wait,” he mumbled quietly as he backed away from the counter, sounding--and looking--more distant than when he had first walked in. And much more red, at that.  
  
Astrid found herself glancing up more often than she usually did when she made drinks. She passed the pitcher of boiling water and the containers of various sugars to start on his coffee. Two pumps hazelnut, one pump caramel, a bit of cinnamon, light foam, and a touch of salt. Her own personal concoction.  
  
She glanced up again, and saw Hiccup looking at her. He looked away sharply. So did she.  
  
Something was off, and she didn’t like it.  
  
It was a lurch of her stomach, and a warmth crawling on her neck. Astrid made a mental note to drink more water as she stirred Hiccup’s drink before sealing it with a plastic cap, hoping she was just feeling a little nauseous. Then, out of kindness--she was practically moving on autopilot now--she set the cup down and took a paper pouch from a stack. Astrid slid open the pastry case, and slipped a chocolate chip cookie into the paper sheath with a pair of tongs.  
  
Bringing both items to the pick up counter, she called out, “Hiccup?”  
  
He was there in a matter of seconds, cautiously eyeing the paper pouch.  
  
“I didn’t--”  
  
“I know,” Astrid said breezily, holding both items out to him, “but just in case you don’t like the drink.” Hiccup gave her a funny look, and Astrid wrinkled her nose.  
  
“What kind of poison did you slip in there?” He remarked, scrutinizing the white paper cup with a curious eye. Astrid actually snorted.  
  
“It’s a surprise, remember?” She slyly returned. He laughed a note, before reaching out to claim his food. Their fingers brushed, and Astrid found herself wondering if he felt that little tingle of electricity rippling through her hand.  
  
“Gee, thanks. I’ll have to write my will tonight, just in case something terrible happens. If I’m on the news tomorrow, I fully expect you to turn yourself into the police.”  
  
“Right, of course I will,” Astrid grinned, pressing her palms onto the granite countertop. “The moment the name ‘Hiccup’ makes the 4 o’clock news, I’ll be down at the police station.”  
  
Hiccup looked at her and opened his mouth, as if he were correct her somehow. After a moment’s pause, however, he shook his head and smiled a small, amused smile.  
  
“Thank you, Astrid,” he said as he turned around to exit the coffee shop.  
  
“See you _latte_ -er, and have a good day, sir,” Astrid responded--begrudgingly, but also… strangely enough, _happily_.  
  
Again, he laughed.  
  
And Astrid found herself standing behind the counter, watching this _Hiccup_ character step out of the front door. _Hopefully,_ she mentally tacked on, still wearing a tiny smile. It only lasted for a split second, though, because she was almost immediately twisting her arm behind her to brush her fingertips against her shoulder blade.  
  
She sighed.  
  
_Hopefully not,_ she corrected, biting her lip.


End file.
